Bad Little Bride

Enzo slams his glass down for the second time, and a man whose build matches the last one to refill it—though I couldn’t say for sure thanks to the bandana slung across his nose, hiding his face—steps in to pour him a third. And the food has only just been set before us.

His movements are jerky as he piles my plate, aggressively diving into his own. Even his chewing is vicious, and the sharp dip in his brows has yet to ease since the moment he stormed into the room, slamming into his seat without a word.

In fact, he’s yet to speak at all and we’ve been sitting here for no less than ten minutes.

“Bad day?”

Enzo’s eyes narrow on his plate. “What makes you think that?”

I swallow my bite, enjoying the red wine reduction as it washes over my tongue, and take my time answering. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you were in a very different mood when you left today⁠—”

“You mean when you picked a fight with me, all so you wouldn’t have to acknowledge you enjoyed our morning together?”

“—and now you’re stabbing at your steak like you’re the one killing the cow.” I pretend he didn’t speak, and he huffs in further annoyance.

“I’d very much like to kill someone right now, actually. Thank you for the idea.”

I roll my eyes, letting my teeth scrape across the fork and chewing slowly as I go in for a third taste.

Enzo’s attention yanks my way, snapping from my plate to my mouth before lifting to meet my gaze.

“What?”

Satisfaction flares to life in his hazel eyes. “You’re enjoying the filet.”

I tense, realizing this is the first time I’ve accepted the plate he’s prepared for me.

I put the fork down and slide the plate away, taking hold of my wine.

A flash of caution flickers across his face, his jaw ticking. “Don’t be a brat. You like it. Eat it.”

“I’m fine.”

“Eat, Boston.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“If I didn’t say anything, you would have eaten more. Grow up and eat the damn food.”

“Get over yourself, Enzo.” I sigh, sitting back in my seat. “This caveman ‘must feed woman’ act is old already.”

“It will be old when I’m dead and will only get worse the longer you continue to eat like a bird.”

“Just trying to manage the expectation.”

“Expectation?” His tone is clipped.

“You know, be pretty and plastic and petite.”

His brows snap together. “I want none of those things.”

I raise a challenging brow. “You don’t want me to be pretty?”

“That is an irrelevant part of the equation.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you are far from pretty. You’re beauty personified. Perfection that cannot be bought.”

I scoff a laugh and his eyes narrow to slits.

“What’s so funny?” he bites, annoyance rising.

“Uh, you literally bought me, Enzo. That’s what’s funny.”

“I simply made sure the woman I wanted was mine.”

A small frown builds along my forehead at his choice of words. “Exactly. You paid for me. I’m no different than the wine in this glass.” I swirl my cup. “An expensive, bitter bitch that gets the job done but doesn’t live up to the hype the dollar suggests.”

Enzo stays perfectly still for several long moments, his eyes drilling into mine with each passing second. When he speaks, it’s with a sharp, dark assurance. A warning and a promise in one. “You are not a list of check-marked boxes. You are the manual expectancies are born from. The reason the list exists in the first place. The top of the pyramid. La crème de la crème. There is nothing for you to live up to.” He leans forward in his seat then, snaring me with his intensity. “There is everyone else…and then there is you.”

My heart dares to flutter in my chest. Pulsing as if woken with a newly born energy, a thrill that shouldn’t be there but demands to be when a man like this one speaks of me in such a manner. I force myself not to swallow past the sudden dryness in my throat. For two beats, I simply stare at Enzo, a strange spinning in my stomach I can’t fight.

My entire life I’ve been compared to my sister, my twin, and never once was I the favored one, yet here he is putting me on a pedestal in the clouds. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck tingle, creating a wave-like effect.

It’s not until a strange softness falls over him, as if he’s inside me and knows exactly what I’m feeling, what I’m thinking, that I get my shit together, remembering this is but an arrangement and he’s likely a liar.

I lift a single shoulder with more effort than it should take to do so. “So, you’re saying I’m living up to what you envisioned?”

That softness is gone in a flash, anger and maybe a hint of frustration slipping over his features. “You know what, no. I guess you’re not.”

Before I can stop it, my head tugs back, his words a contradiction of what he’d just said…not that I believed his pretty explanation. All pretty things are lies.

Look at my life.

Enzo eyes me with sharp regard. “Perhaps I should remind you of the terms of our contract.”

My spine steels, further slapping me into the correct headspace. “I’m fully aware of every word written.”

“Are you sure?” He sits back, his tone mocking.

“Considering I drafted it, yes. I am.” I glare. “So, if you have a point, make it.”

“I don’t think I need to. You’re a brilliant woman—another reason why I wanted you—you can figure it out.”

“You didn’t want me, Enzo. I picked you, and I don’t care to figure it out. If I’m falling short, then perhaps we should review the contract. How about we start with the revision that needs to be made?”

His frown is fast. “There will be no revision. You’re mine. Period.”

The harsh finality in which he speaks should not entice me, yet heat pools low in my core.

“Sure,” I toss out, happy the rage that seeps into his gaze cools my blood. “But your clause is no longer valid. My sister is spoken for, so she can’t take my place when I fail at my new little title.”

“You will not fail.”

“So we need a new clause,” I continue as if he didn’t speak. “The simplest answer is to give me back to my father and add interest to the fee he’ll need to return.”

Enzo flies from his seat, yanking my chair from under the table and tipping it back until I’m nearly sliding out upside down. He gets in my face, eyes wild and chest stretched wide. “That is never going to happen. You will never be free of me, I made sure of that the earliest moment I could. Now that you’re mine, now that my name is yours, and my ring is on your finger, that is what you’ll always be. Boston Fikile. Always a Fikile. Mine.”

I swallow. “You said that already.”

“I will say it every fucking day. Clearly you need me to, because you are not getting it through this pretty little head of yours.” His gaze travels over my face, falling and holding on my lips. “You are my wife. You will be and do all the things you agreed you would. What you will not do…is try to play me for a fool, because guess what, my sweet Boston,” he whispers, a slow, cruel smile covering his lips as he tips my chair back in place. “I’m keeping you either way.”

With that, Enzo storms off, and I spend the first night in our room alone.

It’s just after ten p.m. and we’ve been in the back of the Hummer for no less than twenty minutes, nothing but the sound of us breathing to be heard, when Enzo decides to break his little twenty-four-hour silent treatment.

“We’re going to Torin Bandoni’s club.” My head snaps toward Enzo but he keeps his frown on his phone.

I still have no idea why he was pissy in the first place, but whatever.

“Before you ask, yes,” he adds. “Bronx will be in attendance.”

A smile curves my lips, the boredom I was prepared for going out the window. I’m tempted to ask if this meeting with Torin “The Tracker” Bandoni is about what he told me the other day, but that would be too much like having a casual conversation, and that’s just not how our relationship is.

The only time we really talk is when we argue, so I just stay quiet.

I won’t deny, though, it is good to know Mr. Bandoni isn’t opposed to working with the man who wanted to take my father’s place before I slid in and, well, let him have his cake and eat it too.

Not that he’s eaten anything yet…

I swallow, looking out the window. Not the train of thought for me to be on today.

Or ever.

Get tossed into my husband’s room only to sleep without him.

It’s like teasing without a damn word, and now all I can think about is what it would be like to share that massive bed with him.

“I imagine I don’t need to tell you to keep the topic of Katana off the table.”

And just like that, homicidal energy has checked back in. “Yet here you are, doing it anyway.”

Enzo’s head turns my way, but I purposefully leave him to my profile, staring straight ahead. “You do realize I am your family now, so with me is where your loyalty lies.”

“I understand how loyalty works in our world, Enzo, and even if I didn’t, bringing up the girl I would like nothing more than to put down, is the last thing I’d choose to do.”

“She is of no threat to you, Boston.”

Slowly, I turn to face him. “No, she’s not.” I hold his gaze.

“But?”

“But I haven’t decided if you will be because I can promise you, if I decide she’s better off dead, she’ll be lucky if I make it quick.”

He watches me closely, a small frown building across his brow. “You can’t kill her.”

A slow smile spreads across my lips, and I let the low laugh creeping up my throat free. “You really think you could stop me?”

His jaw is set, and he opens it to speak, but just then the car rolls to a stop, so he clamps his mouth shut. Stepping out when they open the door, he reaches for my hand, gently easing me from the car. We walk up the steps, entering into the club where we’re immediately met with the loud bass of the house music and Bronx screaming my name from the upper level.

I look up with a smile and go to head her way, but Enzo grips my hand firmly, leading me up the stairs. He pauses there, at the threshold where the VIP boxes open up to the left, the private tables, where I can see Bronx’s dad sitting with a few others, to the right. Enzo turns me to face him, his hands sliding along my shoulders possessively, his eyes dark under the shadowed lights.

“You will be in my sight at all times.” He tips my chin up, his eyes never leaving mine as he leans down and brushes his lips over the edge of my mouth, slowly sliding them to my ear. “Behave, Little Bride.”

“Kiss my ass, secret husband.”

I swear I hear a small groan slip from him as I pull away, joining Bronx and a few girls I recognize from Greyson Elite Academy at the tables.

“Well, well.” She smirks, flipping her dark curls as she slides back in the seat. “Look who was set free.”

“Hardly.” I drop into the space beside her. “You think your dad is sitting at the closest table to this section by accident?”

She chuckles, wiggling her brows. “Do you think I didn’t control the guest list for tonight for that very reason?”

My eyes narrow and she laughs loudly, tossing her head back and showing her slender neck. The girl is sex on a stick without even trying.

She might be small in stature, but her personality is ten feet tall, and she knows it. I’ve never met a more secure girl in my life. It’s no wonder she’s my sister’s best friend.

She’s one of a fucking kind.

I don’t have to ask her what she means, as not ten seconds later, I see them.

Damiano Donato, my sister’s head of security, and a few from his Greyson crew head right this way, but it’s not the randos that has my smile spreading. It’s the blond head to their left, whose eyes are locked on mine.

Nicholas Galley points at me and I shake my head, sneaking a quick peek at Enzo’s table, but his head is dipped low in what looks to be a tense conversation.

“There she is!” Nicholas shouts over the music, and a low laugh leaves me as he steps ahead of the crowd, dropping onto the table right in front of me. “Hello, my favorite girl.”

“Nicholas.” I grin. “Saw your uncle the other night. You could have come to save me from all the bullshit.”

“Oh, I would have, but unfortunately, I had to skip.”

“I heard.”

His eyes snap back to mine, narrowing. “What did you hear?” I cock my head, and he chuckles lightly. “My bad, just…a lot going on with all these changes happening.”

I nod. “My sister said you haven’t been around. Big job?”

“More of a…wrinkle in one.” He nods as he glances around the room. “She and her man here?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.” He nods again, and the Nicholas I’ve come to know pops out. “I’d like to officially say I’m an angry boy. You didn’t tell me you’d be here tonight. I had to hear it from Dom who said Bronx insisted I come along when she heard I was with him.”

“She threatened to send your dick pic around campus again?”

“That was one time!” she shouts, tossing back a shot. “And more of a Welcome to Greyson Elite.”

“Told her to go for it, but only if I could send a better angle.” Nicholas chuckles, passing her a little blue pill and smiling down at me.

“It doesn’t work that way around here, Galley,” she teases, accepting his party favor.

“Trust me, Bandoni.” He bounces his brows. “I know a thing or two about sex scandals and how to use them to get what I want.”

“You’ll get shit from me, pretty boy.”

He grins good-heartedly.

“Well, fucking well!” I turn at the agitated voice that suddenly booms, my eyes narrowed, but I’m not the only one.

Bronx leans forward in her seat, and no one misses the way the newcomer stares right down her dress. “You were not invited.”

“Which is exactly why I had to come.” Hayze grins, running his tongue over his lower lip. “Miss me, honey?”

“How did you get past security?” She glares.

“You mean Roberts?” Hayze’s lips could not curve any higher. “Buried something for him a couple nights ago. ’Bout six feet under, if you feel me. He owed me one.”

“Congratulations,” she deadpans. “You just got him fired.”

He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, curling around the back of the chair until his lips are by her ear. “Worth it.”

She rolls her eyes, but I swear she fights a small smirk, even if she does wipe it away before he can spot it.

Hayze looks up at me. “Still got that bullet in my arm.”

“If you’re hoping for a matching one, you could come sit by me.” I smile sweetly.

“Keep smiling at me like that, sweetheart, and I just might.”

Unimpressed, I sit back. “You sold me out.”

He grins. “You foolishly trusted me.”

My eyes narrow but a low laugh escapes, and I tip my chin. “Touché.”

“Wait.” Bronx looks to me with glittering eyes. “You’re the one who shot him?”

“Enzo shot him.”

“For calling her sweetheart,” Hayze adds.

My lips tug up. “You’re actually bragging about it.”

“Fuck yeah. How many have been shot by Enzo Fikile and lived to tell about it.”

We both laugh and damn, it feels nice…and I might smile a little extra wide when Enzo glares this way.

Bronx, of course, deflates. “Well, that’s a lot more boring a story than I thought it was going to be.”

“You can shoot me anytime you want, and we both know how bad you…want, little nightmare,” he damn well purrs.

“I am way too sober for this,” she mumbles, tossing the little pill in her mouth and lifting her hand into the air.

Not ten seconds later, a girl rolls a bar cart over, and drinks start getting poured.

Hayze looks to Nicholas then, cocking his head. “Do I know you?”

Nicholas stands tall. “I was wondering the same thing. Not sure I’ve seen you around.”

“Hmm.” Hayze stares, but turns his back a moment later, focusing all his attention on Bronx instead.

Nicholas frowns but smiles when the cocktail waitress passes him a drink. She hands me a chardonnay and I sit back, facing Nicholas when he turns to me once more.

“So.” He smiles.

“So.”

“I still can’t believe it all worked out.”

I nod, glancing toward Enzo once more. “He agreed a lot easier than expected, actually.”

“It would’ve been more believable if he would have made you sweat a bit.” He chuckles.

His word choice has my head cocking. “Believable?”

His eyes snap back to mine, his drink freezing at his lips. He watches me closely, almost as if searching for something, but then he laughs, dipping closer. “Sorry. I’ve seen the tabloids. You’re going the we’re in love route.” He winks, pretending to zip his lips, and turns to Damiano, maybe a little too eagerly.

My attention shifts then, gaze locking with Enzo’s instantly, and his face is set in a hard line. I down my glass, holding it up without taking my eyes off his as the waitress pours me a second. In that moment, something shifts, Enzo’s eyes pop up, a look of pure rage blanketing his features.

He flies to his feet in an instant and I frown, but then a hand closes over mine on the stem of the glass, and I tip my head to the side to see who is touching me to find big blue eyes staring back.

“Hello, beautiful girl,” Philip beams. “What was Enzo thinking, letting you out alone, and in such a dress?”

I don’t have time to tell him I’m not alone or that Enzo picked out said dress.

The man himself appears out of fucking nowhere, and all hell breaks loose.